Devour
by RelAtivEmistake
Summary: Hunger is an ever prominent motivation. Even more so now when Pitch is weak after his defeat. Winter can't delay the need for sustenance any longer. Warning, Kids and people get eaten. No slash. Reviews are appreciated.
1. Hunger

** Kids get eaten. There's your warning, world.**  
** I own nothing.**

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Shadows crowded the body of their fallen king, a perpetually loyal and fearless subject. Fearlings and nightmares were wary of him now after he'd crushed the insurgents within their ranks. So he spent the days breathing and seeing now, trying to forget the hunger which curled constantly in him.

He grew tired of waiting in his cavern, but a predator is patient. Even when he is wasting away, a predator must wait. Under the shadows, his gauntness was hidden well but this paltry diet of shame, mistrust and hate would not suffice. He could smell the unobtainable, the fear that waited solely for his belly. The heady scent of terror served only to remind him of how long since it'd last been. Pitch grew hungry.

___Omnipresent and unending. Thus so is fear. Thus too is hunger._

Pitch swayed lightly on his throne, feet kicked up on what once was a deviant fearling. He knew then, as the scent of his prey grew closer, that he'd last no longer. Now was when he'd strike, while the prey moved in his territory. He gestured casually to Onyx. It would be over quickly.

Six nightmares burst free from their prison like a plague at his command. They chased the lost child through the silent forest and towards its center. Hooves crushing the snow as their master's prey became corralled at the cavern's entrance. The unholy glee in the nightmares' eyes only increased that intoxicating scent. The king would feast well tonight.  
He was so starved that once the source of the fear entered the ground he had to fight the urge to sink his teeth into his prey. Patience, he told himself, for the power he gained would be doubled with patience.

Pitch rarely partook of flesh much less live flesh, as he could survive off of fear alone. Living tissue was messy, hard to come by and the patron was often unwilling. However, live food gave off far more fear than the dead, and provided extra nutrients with its consumption. Without the ability to gather fear on the scale he needed, flesh was his last resort. Needless to say, it would be a bad night for the child.

The tendrils of his shadows silenced and restrained the prey diligently while Pitch savored all of his meal slowly(_in truth he rather wished to wolf everything down_). Soft sighs escaped after every loud swallow, and he worked outward in, avoiding bony parts like fingers and toes. When finally he cracked open his prey, there existed no pity in his addled mind nor remorse as he levered organ after organ up to his mouth rapidly.

Mares of the hunt, posted all around like angels, watched the child pass silently in the night, and drank in its fear of death. Their king would be sated for the first time since his defeat. Thus Pitch devoured what remained, and made short work of bones and cartilage to fill himself. His nightmares would soon get their fill anyway.

_The lights on Pitch's iron globe flickered to life behind him. They could taste the fear now.  
_Yet now as the Nightmare King sat on his throne, wiping his face of blood, he felt a rush of hunger.

"Surely there must be more?"

**x~o~~O~~o~x**  
**The scent of fresh snow remained completely forgotten.**

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**An: Welp, hope you enjoyed. It snowed today, for the second time this year here and I just had to commemorate it. Reviews are always appreciated.**


	2. Doubt

Well, it happened again. Due to requests from my sister...This just became a multi-chaptered story.  
**Adults get eaten this time- There's your warning, world.  
****I own nothing.****  
**

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Chapter 2  
_One taste assaulted his senses for days on end. Finally, when he could handle no more of its torment, he slunk from his home then into the night. The town of Burgess, a glowing target in the distance._

_When he found his prey, he was swift, and undeterred by the feverish effects of his need. The prey could do nothing to save itself as it was pulled backwards into a dark abyss of shadows. Pitch's mouth watered. Perhaps this one would ease the hunger._  
_But he whom desires once, craves forever._

**X~o~*O*~o~X**

The wind shifted against him, trying to soothe a problem it could not solve. Through it all, he'd only ever had the wind. He was a thorn in everyone's side...an attention seeker, selfish and petty. He shuddered because it couldn't be true. Something was twisted in him, for he whispered only lies.  
When he grew weary of constant doubt, he spent time in Burgess, and he thought often of how he had become a Guardian. Good deeds nor years of loyalty had led him to this. So Jack played the days away, preferring to forget his insecurities and the creeping fear within him.  
_Dreamsand danced overhead._  
More often though, Jack wondered what had happened to the Nightmare King.  
He kicked his feet, He shouldn't have been thinking at all. It brought only doubt.

Quickly, shadows streamed by him and rabid whinnying suddenly filled the night air. Though muted by distance and snow, Jack knew the sounds came from within the forest. And then, as quickly as it had started, there was nothing. Jack moved swiftly there and found only hoof prints, most covered by fresh snow. They were all headed straight for the collapsed bed. A memory stirred. He took one look at it and turned around for Burgess. A horrible feeling curled in his gut. He'd never admit that it was fear which had turned him around. But deep down, he knew it was.

He stopped at Pitch's the next morning to prove to himself that he wasn't afraid. Nothing could go wrong._  
_The bed above Pitch's lair stood again, still as ratchet as before, but no longer sunken into the hole beneath it as it had days ago. Jack shivered as he stood over it. Courage, he thought, and made the jump. The air held a certain quality here, decay, or perhaps it was just Jack's imagination. He wandered through the halls aimlessly searching and waiting for a cocky voice to greet him. There was none. Jack grew bored of the wait.  
_He pretended not to enjoy the call of the darkness or the cool air which met him too intimately._

A loud crack reverberated through the halls. Chewing and a few smaller, less frequent crepitations trailed soon after. When it ceased, a pleasured groan permeated the air.

Jack stopped, confused, but did not dwell on it long. He furrowed his brow as he followed the sound.

He could feel eyes in the room turn to him as he entered, mistrustful and wary. The nightmares and fearlings did not move; they followed some unknowable order. Before him, the Nightmare King knelt over another. Bony fingers, covered in a thick dark film of fluid, held tightly his prey. He worked with fervour as in earnest, Pitch tried to sate the hunger.

Angry mares turned to Jack. He intruded on something personal and meant only for their eyes. Only they should have ever witnessed this. "_The outsider won't understand," they whispered_. The mares waited for some retaliation. When there was none, Onyx trotted from the shadows, and the nightmares grew wild. She bowed as she approached her king and tugged lightly at his robes. There was only enough time for her to jump away before Onyx found teeth snapping at her neck, luckily just out of reach. An earsplitting snarl followed her as she sprinted back to the shadows. The Nightmare King lowered his head to finish eating but then stiffened, and turned slowly to face Jack. There was an uncomfortable silence now, as each tried to size up one another anew. Pitch moved slightly off his kill.  
"Ah, Jack- it has been some years since last a Guardian came to visit."  
Jack glimpsed death.  
Nightmares, riled and hungry, waited for their chance to eat. A body, shattered, half eaten and leaking gradually on to the stone. Pitch, covered slightly in gore, a maddened gaze, with pupils blown wide and foggy. From hunger, madness or pleasure, Jack knew not which.

Jack tried to move away, when finally he saw everything clearly. He needed to leave and tell the Guardians. This was so wrong. He shouldn't have come-  
The nightmares grew antsy, lunging, whinnying and pawing at the earth. As Pitch got up from his prey, Nightmares and fearlings converged behind him, and dragged what remained into the darkness. He walked closer, taking slow steps as if to soothe a startled foal. Pitch scented the air. Jack froze as he tried to figure out what to do. He pointed his staff at Pitch weakly.  
"You- you've...what have you done..."Jack stuttered. Acid rose in his throat. The sight and scent were overwhelming! It merged into a miasma too strong for him to bear. Where was the oxygen? His vision was darkening, becoming blurry about the edges. Slivers of gold watched him with perverse joy.  
"Tell no one of our interactions, or you shall soon find yourself the newest delicacy on my palate, Jack."  
And he shut down.

When next he woke, Jack Frost found himself on his pond, safe and intact. The moon sat high in the sky. It gave no answer for the confused state that Jack stumbled around in. The wind tugged him away from the forest, uttering on silent breaths its condolences. Still, Jack stumbled and fell. It would never be enough. Images flashed through his mind. He retched as soon as he hit the ground. Dust lurched from his gullet and onto the grass.

_He was startlingly empty. Something was wrong, and gravely so. What was that stabbing pain?_  
And as Jack watched the remains of his last meal idly through lidded eyes, something foreign settled inside him, twitching and gnawing.

"When was the last time I ate?"

**X~~o(O)o~~X  
Golden sand lit up the sky, blithely ignorant of the blackness below.**

**x~o~~O~~o~x**

_The shadows shifted ever so slightly and reflective irises followed his movements with a cold, thoughtful stare as he left._**  
**

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**AB: Almost twice as long. I do hope that it was the equivalent of the preceding chapter...if not better. Reviews are still appreciated.  
Thanks, Archangel of Dragons for "_whom desires once, craves forever._" I love it!**


	3. A taste

**I don't own-**

**AN: Hey guys, long time no see. First off, sorry for being delayed..I got caught in college essays and psuedo-betaing. Likewise I apologize for this filler chapter- But halfway through I realized I really wanted to make the next chapter and this one (which wasn't that great anyway)got pushed aside. Well enjoy it as you wish-**

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Chapter 3

**X~o~*O*~o~X**

Plagued by a painful sensation, he twisted and writhed in agony. Nick's comforting touch did very little to help. So he wallowed around the workshop and avoided the shadows. He tried for a long while to remember the source of his discomfort; to no avail. Only the vague thought of "empty" served to guide him. However, in its stead lay guilt. Jack felt terrible for visiting Pitch without telling anyone. He felt worse for keeping it all secret. Nick's constant concerned looks did nothing to help. Still, he could not confide in the guardian of wonder- nor any of the others.  
It grew too restrictive then, in the workshop, and he hastily left for Jaime's place. When he arrived, morning light filtered through Jaime's window. The boy had already showered and was heading downstairs.  
"Morning Jack!"  
"Hey Jaime,"They settled quickly into their routine. Jack swiped Jaime's bag and slid down the stairs with glee. An ambrosial scent hit Jack and he stopped where he stood. His eyes locked on the stove and hovered over the bacon there. Jaime pushed past Jack and reclaimed his bag with a huff.  
His eyes drifted over Jaime's breakfast. Something growled inside of him when Jaime started to eat.  
"Jack, is everything alright?"  
"Yeah Jaime- sorry, I was just thinking."  
As soon as Jaime nodded, Jack's eyes clouded, he wanted nothing more than a taste.  
"Jaime", Jack gasped,"I have to go- I'm not feeling alright-"  
"Bye Ja-"  
Jack was on the wind before Jaime could finish, his untouched plate of breakfast spirited away. The wind held Jack lightly and blew chaotically about him. When he at last reached his pond, it was all he could do not to crash to the ground.  
He slid deftly to the snow, and almost reverently placed Jaime's plate on the ground. He held the plate tightly, covetous in that way, as if to ward off others. Saliva pooled in Jacks mouth at the scent which hit him. He tentatively licked a slice of bacon, and fell upon the plate in ravenous hunger. It was gone so fast that he nipped his own fingers. Jack felt all around the plate for more, when there was none, he suckled the crumbs off his shirt in a desperate haze.  
It had started snowing sometime during his meal, and Jack was all the more satisfied when he splayed out on the ice. He had just settled to take a well deserved nap, when the snow crunched quietly in the distance. The sandman floated overhead and Jaime followed behind. They came across Jack as he watched them, oddly cautious and quiet.  
"Hello Jaime, Sandy, how are you?"  
They were terse, and ignored him in favor of staring at him in worry.  
"Jack, You don't look healthy-,"Jaime commented, he squinted into the distance at his plate.  
Sandy nodded sullenly.  
"I'm fine, everything is fine-"

**x~o~~O~~o~x **

**Shadow spawn twisted and writhed amongst one another; they tore and bit into each other as they tried to escape the light.**

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**An: Thanks to all the reviews- even if they're questions It's good for the writings.**  
**And for anyone who's wondering- This story now has a plot, or at least the semblance of one.  
Thank's for reading! Reviews are loved.**


	4. As preordained

**AN: I still do not own ROTG...and no warnings for this chapter sadly**

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Chapter 4

The nightmares cowered outside of his room with their ears flicked back and their sand thrumming lightly. He fed from their essence. Their sand, nothing more than dust to hold his image. He wanted to scream at the lack of food but fought and made due for the time. Still Pitch roared inside at the twisting of his intestines which grew more insistent with each day in isolation.  
Though surely, with nightmare sand and shadows filled to the brim with fear, he would not hunger-  
But for now he stood, victorious against even existence which opposed him.

Though he knew deep down that his art, art in fear and shadows, would not be eternal. It was a problem which he'd hoped to rectify. Solidify their belief in him, strike fear into their hearts, this he tried. A miserable failure on his part, brought on by haste and pride. That and the overtly direct attack on the stronghold of the Guardians. He snarled at himself.  
Stupid-  
It was no matter though, he'd be a fool to have only one plan, only one existence. Thus Pitch found himself in dire need of a protégé. While from his sand he had crafted life, he'd not play god again, not at the same cost. So he looked for a spirit, one with whom he could share his... techniques. He felt reminiscent of a wolf, looking for a prime partner, as he prowled through the dark of the Guardians' homes. He looked for a specific sort of spirit. One he could wean towards his wishes. One which knew of solitude. Yet still, as before, his instincts reached for Jack Frost. It bothered him to no end, the promise of food and companionship, the imaginary hunts, all equally gorgeous and carnal, so long as they involved Jack.

It was simple enough to lure Frost in, plant questions and doubts and fear. Even easier to set a new trap. Black dust, hung in the air as a dark toxin. A vapor to replace the blade which had killed Sanderson. This he used to begin.

Though he had not planned on being interrupted during his meal, Pitch was well prepared, everything was as he designed. So he cast the guardian away for the time, and watched as his own actions took effect. Jack's nightmares, fueled by the feasts of Pitch's mind. It was entirely too pleasing to see Jack come undone in dreams, and to watch the growing horror and feed from it. Jack would eventually tell the Guardians, and all of Jack's safety would come crashing down around him when they learned of his deviance. Jack would have only him to turn to.

**x~o~~O~~o~x**

It was not long into his thoughts that Pitch became aware of the cold. Wind ruffled through his lair, and told him then that his ward had returned. He stood, cleansed of madness and shifted through the shadows to Jack. He stalked around and calmly observed. With shallow breaths he could smell food. Pitch frowned at the quality. He'd not have his own eating garbage. Jack turned suddenly, as if he knew all along, and shuffled over to the Nightmare king.  
"You have anything to eat?,"Jack mumbled.  
Pitch grinned, "Of course, come with me."  
So began a painfully awkward trek through the darkness.  
"I won't switch sides because you feed me-"Jack said suddenly, as they closed in on a room nestled deep into the cavern.  
"I was aware,"Pitch replied coldly"and expected no less, however I have hope you will not be so apprehensive to the idea in the future."  
Jack snorted as it grew lighter to where he could see the room. He took a seat by a slate table.  
"That's unlikely"  
Pitch frowned lightly."Excuse me,"he shifted through the shades with a grim smile, and returned swiftly with a steaming plate in hand. It was his own meal, but for the time Pitch was fine with giving it up, he had more anyway. Pitch slid the steak carefully to Jack and settled into a chair nearby.  
Jack was hesitant at first but soon sank closer to his plate and wolfed down chunk after chunk. He forwent his fork at one point, and ended up with an empty platter. Pitch smiled and leaned back against his chair, smug to hide his own nervousness.  
"Jack, what are we to do with you?"  
Somehow Jack knew what Pitch meant but still feigned ignorance, "What do you mean? I'll go back to the Guardians and forget this ever happened- no need to dwell on it."  
"How optimistic-but I doubt that the Guardians will accept you as you are; a spirit that eats, bizarre as it were,"Pitch muttered. He grinned at the subtle frown on Jack. "You were not aware? Spirits do not eat, it is a taboo forbidden to even the most powerful-"  
"You lie,"Jack stuttered, he stood quickly and knocked his chair over in the process.  
"Yes, no, who but I knows?"Pitch whispered, his eyes grew darker, "Just imagine if your friends found out about this little problem of yours?"  
"Pitch, you wouldn't dare..."Jack raised his staff. Pitch could see him tensing as if to flee, So much like all the others, this would be different he assured. How perfectly he carried out the plan, it left him tormented with glee. Pitch moved swiftly at Jack's threat and chuckled as he had all those years before.  
"I'd dare not, you'll reveal it to them yourself, Jack."  
The wind was swift, and lingered in Jack's stead, the only trail which carried Pitch's words. What better way to escape the truth, than to flee? Still Pitch knew then as before that the roots of his influence spread yet.  
All was ideal and as was ordained.

**x~o~~O~~o~x  
The sun had yet to rise.**

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**AN: It's the essays again- so the next chapter will likely not come out until the second week in April.**  
**As always, I appreciate your reviews.**


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